Touch of Darkness (35 page)

"May he finish his story uninterrupted!" Jasha glared meaningfully.

Everyone laughed, drank, and settled back to listen

once more.

"Was Ilya dead on impact?" Konstantine asked.

"No, he staggered to his feet, grabbed Kassian's pistol. I kicked his feet out from underneath him"— Rurik gave a crack of laughter—"and the son of a bitch shot himself."

The table was absolutely silent. Then—

"I guess . . . since he was a demon ... it was fatal?" Jasha asked.

"Killed him deader than hell," Rurik confirmed.

"A Varinski shot himself? Killed himself?" Konstantine sat and stared into space, his eyes narrowed, his fingers rubbing together over and over again.

"Unheard of. Impossible. I wonder what is going on."

"The pact is failing," Zorana said matter-of-factly "If we're lucky, they'll all kill themselves before they find us."

"You keep hoping, Ma." Only a month before, Jasha and Ann had had their own run-ins with the Varinski clan, and although Jasha had healed, he still bore the scars.

"So they were all dead. You were staked to the ground. And . . . ?" Firebird rolled her hands, trying to get Rurik to finish the story.

"I was done for it. I was exhausted. I'd been shot. I'd lost a lot of blood. I was dehydrated and in pain, and I could
not
get that stake out of the ground so I could get away, get help."

"Don't." Tasya's voice broke. "It got dark and cold, and I was delirious, in and out of consciousness. It was about dawn when I came out of it, and knew I was dying." Zorana clutched her fist in her blouse over her

Ann wiped her eyes with her napkin, and Jasha put his arm around her.

Firebird rubbed her hand on the mound of her

belly.

"I was in such pain, I was glad to have it

finished. . . ." Rurik looked right at Tasya. "Then two
people appeared to me."

"Someone came to help you?" Tasya's bright blue eyes filled with tears, and she looked at Rurik with that expression that both broke his heart—and made it all worthwhile. "God bless them."

He liked this new Tasya, made soft and tender by love. She touched him at every opportunity; she brooded over him while she thought he slept; she waited on him.

He knew it wouldn't last. Well, the love would, hut her hanging over him wouldn't. A woman like Tasya needed meaningful employment, and they'd have to find something for her to do, and fast, but. . . a man could get used to that kind of treatment.

"The sun came up behind them, so I never did see their faces." Rurik wanted to get through this part, and at the same time ... he wanted someone to explain what had happened. "They seemed to glow." Tasya's chin stopped trembling. She sat up straight, and she stared at him.

"The lady gave me something to drink, water, I guess. Really good, clear water. I've never tasted water as good as that." Even the memory gave Rurik cheer. "And the guy ... he was sort of talking to me. At least, I could hear him in my head. He said I was never going to be able to yank that walking

stick out of the ground, but if I could get my feet under me and use my other hand on the stick, I could pull myself up."

"Why didn't he pull the stick out of you?" Jasha still didn't understand; no one had ever said Jasha was subtle.

Firebird stared at him in disgust. "Because he was a ghost, you moron."

"Oh, come on." Jasha made his disbelief quite clear. "You were hallucinating." Tasya twisted her napkin between her fists. "All 1 know is—it hurt like a bitch when I man-aged to pull myself free." At the memory, Rurik rubbed his shoulder. The tendons straining, the mus- cles tearing, the knowledge that he had to deliber-ately break his own shoulder blade. "Those people led me to this stream coming out of the side of the mountain. I just flopped down in that icy water and I let it wash my wounds, and got a good drink. I passed out again, and when I woke up ... the sun was rising."

"Told you, you were hallucinating," Jasha said. Tasya looked between Jasha and Rurik. She opened I her mouth, and shut it.

"You're lucky you didn't drown in the stream," Ann said.

"According to the people in Capraru, that stream dried up when the Dimitru family was killed."

Even Jasha said, "Whoa."

Firebird shivered. "That's a better ghost story than I ever heard while I was camping."

"Maybe I was hallucinating about the people and the stream, but the fact is, my wounds closed, I was conscious and able to stand, and there were no tracks or scents of that couple." Rurik watched his family absorb that, then added, "I looked. The stick was still Muck in the ground, too."

Tasya swallowed, and in a tiny voice, she said, "I know who they are."

As one, everyone turned to her.

"They were my parents."

As if she'd already guessed, Zorana nodded.

"They saved me"—Tasya lightly touched Rurik's arm—"and they saved you."

Rurik took both her hands and kissed them, and held them. "Then we can safely say they gave us their blessing."

Chapter 34

"As do we. We—Zorana and I—give you our' blessing." Konstantine pounded on the table with the flat of his hand. "Another toast! To Tasya's parents, the Dimitrus!"

"Antai and Jennica," Tasya supplied.

"Antai and Jennica Dimitru!" Konstantine looked: into the glass of clear vodka.
"Pahzhalstah,
my friends. Thank you."

Everyone drank again, Konstantine taking the li-quor into himself reverently, as if honoring the Dimitrus for saving his son.

Zorana whispered in Konstantine's ear, then stood and started clearing the table.

Tasya and Ann tried to get up and help, but Zor
ana put a firm hand on both of their shoulders. "The kitchen is small. Let me do it."

"So, Rurik." Konstantine put his glass on the table with a resounding thump. "You had had a spear in your shoulder. You had been shot by an arrow. Your lingers . . . they were broken?"

Tasya frowned in confusion. "His fingers were line."

Rurik shook his head. He knew where his father was heading.

"Because I have been living here in a house for a
week with three weeping women, and all it took was
one little phone call." Konstantine's volume swelled.

"One phone call, Rurik! You could have reversed
the charges!"

Zorana rattled the dishes in agreement.

Jasha relaxed and grinned.

Rurik grinned back and said, "I don't know, Papa. You're pretty strict about not spending your money on long-distance calls."

Tasya slammed Rurik with her fist. "He's right. Why didn't you call?"

With one glance at her furious face, Rurik got serious in a hurry. "Look. I managed to get to the convent. That took me all day, walking and crawling. There was food and water there, and that's where I stayed for eight or nine days. Or ten. I wasn't dying
anymore, but I wanted to. I felt like hell, and I couldn't make it down to Capraru on my own."

Jasha raised his eyebrows. "Staying at a convent didn't turn you to cinders?"

"I stayed out of the chapel. I didn't touch any of the holy objects. But it wasn't fun, I can tell you." Rurik shuddered at the memory of the cool cloister, the hard, narrow cot, the nightmares brought on by fever and pain. "Not just because I'm a part of a pact with the Evil One, either. Any guy would be freaked about sleeping in a nun's bed. Lucky for me I was so damned sick I could barely raise my head."

"Sorry, man." Jasha shook his head.

"Finally, a woman from Capraru showed up. Apparently Mrs. Gulyas ventured up once a month to check on Sister Maria Helvig."

"I'll bet you looked bad." Firebird caught the hot, wet washcloth her mother tossed her, and wiped the table.

"Bruises all over, holes in my clothes that went all the way through my body, dried blood . . . and the way Mrs. Gulyas screamed, I was afraid I'd scared her to death." At the memory, Rurik wiped his face with a napkin. "Then she realized the nun was dead."

"Oh, dear." Tasya covered her mouth.

"I didn't speak the language—"

"Oh, dear," Tasya said again.

"I wouldn't have thought a woman of her girth could move that fast"—he rounded his arms to show her size—"but she ran back for her car, and I couldn't catch her. I knew she'd be back, which she was—"

"With the cops?" Ann guessed.

"They dragged me down to the local jail. They went back to the nunnery, exhumed Sister Maria Helvig, discovered I
hadn't
murdered her, found the Var-inskis, were quite pleased that I'd killed
them
— Ruyshvanians are not fans of the Varinskis." Rurik smiled at the recollection of the fine, festive meal he'd been served. "When someone finally remembered they'd seen me with you, Tasya, they wanted to know where you were. I told them you escaped through the tunnel. . . . They didn't believe me about that, either, but they went up and checked it out, discovered your tracks going in and coming out. They held a huge celebration. Then they let me go."

Tasya took a long drink of her vodka.

If he hadn't felt such tenderness for her, he would have laughed. She was so brave when it came to physical challenges, and such a coward about feelings—the feelings of others, and especially hers. But she would learn. In a family as demonstrative as his, she would have to.

"Tasya, don't you want to know why they were so happy that you'd escaped unharmed?" he asked.

"No."

"Tasya," he said reproachfully.

She surrendered. "Why?"

"Because they recognized you as the Dimitru princess."

"They couldn't. They didn't." Tasya spoke too quickly, putting words together in an excess of denial. "They didn't say anything.
Who
recognized me?"

"Mrs. Gulyas visited while they were releasing me. She showed me a miniature she owned of a medieval painting. A Dimitru queen. Tasya, she looked exactly like you. Dark hair and beautiful blue eyes. Strong genes in your family."

"No. They can't have recognized me. Why didn't anybody say anything?" Tasya pushed her hair off her sweaty forehead. Clearly, she didn't know whether to be pleased or aghast.

"They recognized you, and your wish for anonymity, and they respected that. Then . . . when the Varinskis came through, they recognized them. They told terrible stories about the night your parents were killed."

Tasya cast a glance around the table. He could see her thoughts in her eyes. Last night she had slept with a born predator. Today she had dined with her enemies. Incredulity fought with acceptance.

Taking her hand, he cradled it in his. "The Ruysh
vanians are kind people. They suffered under Czajkowski. They're cautious, but not cruel. They have long memories, and they are very happy that you survived. Very happy." Leaning forward, he cupped her neck in his hands and kissed her. "So am I."

Her lashes fluttered down, then up, and a half smile lifted her lips.

"And that is why we belong together." How could he resist? He kissed her again. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she whispered. In that disgusted-brother tone, lasha said, "Get a room."

"Sh. It's sweet," Zorana said. Rurik kept one hand on Tasya's shoulder as he said, "Anyway, Papa, by the time they put me on the plane, I figured another twenty-four hours wouldn't make a lot of difference, so I surprised you in person instead."

"All right." Konstantine nodded. "I accept that. And now—we are a family. Both of my sons have won women worthy of them—"

Zorana interrupted. "And if they work very hard at improving themselves, in perhaps forty years they might be worthy of their women."

Konstantine looked at his wife, then across the table at Tasya. "She says this because we have been together only thirty-five years."

"So you're getting close, Pop," Rurik said cheerfully.

"We'll reassess at forty years." Zorana smiled, but her lips trembled—according to the doctors' prognoses, Konstantine didn't have another five years, and then . . . Rurik couldn't bear to think what would happen if Konstantine died with the weight of all his sins on his soul.